


A Bolt From The Blue

by Otonymous



Category: MLQC: Fandom, Mr Love: Dream Date, love and producer, 恋与制作人 | Liàn Yǔ Zhì Zuò Rén | Mr. Love: Queen's Choice (Video Game)
Genre: "breakups", Angst, Depictions of mild PTSD symptoms, Disappearances, Exes, F/M, Mafia AU, Masturbation, Mentions of death of a close family member, Mild depictions of blood, Mild depictions of bodily injury, Police, Profanity, Size Kink, Triads, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, mentions of firearms, physical violence, robberies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-21
Updated: 2020-09-18
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:47:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26027476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Otonymous/pseuds/Otonymous
Summary: An extraordinary man arrives to shake up your ordinary life.
Relationships: Líng Xiāo | Shaw/You
Comments: 36
Kudos: 73





	1. A Matter Of Convenience

**Author's Note:**

> This multi-chapter fic is dedicated to the lovely @op-peccatori, one of the winners of my Tumblr Follower Milestone Celebration! Thank you so much, Nana, for requesting a mafia AU story starring everyone’s favourite lavender-haired man 😆 This is actually my first time writing an AU fic, and the experience thus far has been incredibly eye-opening and lots of fun!
> 
> For this piece, I wanted to localize the AU to better fit the world of MLQC, so instead of using a traditional mafia setting, the events take place in the milieu of the triads and “black societies” that are more likely to be found in corresponding parts of the world. For those who are interested, Wikipedia has an incredibly comprehensive article on triads and organized crime.
> 
> This piece turned out to be much longer than I anticipated and is still ongoing as of the time of this post! That being said, I hope you’ll join me on this wild ride 😂 Please note the potential trigger warnings listed in the tags above and skip if this is not your cup of tea!
> 
> As always, wishing you all a very happy read 😊

“Put the money in the bag and no one gets hurt.”

A black duffel bag is thrust onto the counter before you, panels wide open like a gaping maw. You look up at the man in the bomber jacket and the only things you can process are:

One: his nostrils are flaring.

Two: why bother trying to be nondescript by dressing in all black if you’re going to leave your face uncovered during a robbery?

“I ain’t playin’ around, little girl. Put the goddamn money in the bag right now or else I’ll shoot—”

_WHACK!_

The man’s eyes widen in the split second before his face crumples, teeth yellowed and uneven protruding in an ugly grimace. His hand flies to his head, trying to stem the blood already streaking down his face when he collapses onto the counter, taking out a display of collectible miniature keychains next to the register as he does. They scatter, some rolling across the floor before being stopped by a pair of purple Chuck Taylors tapping out an impatient rhythm on the linoleum.

You look up from those sneakers in a daze, eyes following the silhouette of a pair of jeans so worn in places you doubted the rips and tears were purely for aesthetic purposes. And if you’d had to guess, you’d say that purple was your saviour’s favourite colour, given the lavender hair that fell over his eyes the moment he pulled back the hood of his sweatshirt, also in a shade of violet. His other hand — clad in a fingerless leather glove — gripped the skateboard that had just connected with the head of the would-be robber, still groaning before you.

_Pop!_

You startle at the sound, heart slowing only when you see the pink bubble deflating between the young man’s lips before the gum is pulled back by the tip of his tongue. And from where you stood — glued to the spot behind the counter — you swear you can detect the hint of cinnamon. 

He crouches, picking up the gun that had slid out of the thief’s hand when he was unceremoniously hit from behind, and when he chuckles — the sound dangerous and cocksure — it ignites something deep within you.

“Tsk, tsk. Can’t very well go around robbing people with toys guns, now can you? Especially not on my turf. Piece of advice: don’t mess with Boss Li’s territory or else I’ll be doing more than just breaking your head the next time around. Don’t let me catch you here again.” 

Letting out a pathetic whimper, the robber snatches the empty bag from the counter, running for the doors in such haste he almost trips over his own feet. The electronic refrains of the door chime still ring in your ears when you realize the man has already made his way to the beverage dispenser, one long finger pressing the Pepsi button before switching to Coke, both drinks mixing in the same paper cup.

Smoothly stepping over the mess on the floor, he places the drink on the counter right next to a smear of blood. Mind still reeling, your customer service instincts take over.

“H-hello. Just this?” 

He nods, popping a purple straw through the plastic lid before fixing you with his amber eyes as he pays, a hint of a smirk on his face. And that is when it hits you that he is actually…actually…

_…incredibly gorgeous._

An intense wave of heat washes over your face and you can’t help but look down. By the time you’ve worked up the courage to lift your head again, he is already at the door, merging with the dark night beyond. He throws up one hand in goodbye, not even bothering to look back when he says, “Relax. That guy won’t be bothering you again.”

You hear his skateboard hit the pavement, listen to it rolling away. Only when the sound completely fades do you remember to breathe.

* * *

There was a certain tranquility in working late-night shifts at the 24-hour convenience store — aisles empty save for the occasional customer breaking the monotony: high-strung lovers grabbing last-minute condoms and overworked salarymen buying the beer and discounted meals they subsisted on.

And though your coworkers complained bitterly about the graveyard shift, they were more than happy to pass them on to you, making up every excuse as to why they were unable to show up during those times. It was unnecessary, really. You didn’t mind it, even preferred the solitary calm it afforded.

Until now.

Your peace has been shattered, replaced by something that made your hands ball into nervous fists — fingers gripping at the hem of your polyester uniform and wondering for the first time ever whether blue stripes made you look ridiculous.

Because for the first time in a very long while, there was something, _someone,_ to look forward to.

Night after night, it’s the same. Repeated glances at the clock above the magazine rack, your breath growing shallow to see it approach 1:30. Heart leaping into your throat to hear the automatic doors slide open followed by the scuff of purple sneakers, tracing a path through the store.

Since the night of that foiled robbery attempt a month ago, _he_ has visited like clockwork and you still haven’t figured out how to remain calm. So you find contentment from behind the safety of the counter, watching the man with lavender hair — soft, even when lit beneath a harsh fluorescent glare as he stands at the drink dispenser, always filling a cup with Pepsi first, then Coke.

Only ever buying the same thing every time.

This strange ritual lasts all of ten minutes, fifteen at most. And it takes just as long after he leaves for the hairs of your body to cease standing on end, as if electrified by the intensity of his eyes on yours. 

That gaze of molten gold stays with you even when you return home in the early morning hours, pulling blackout curtains across your window before falling into bed to pretend your hands were his: tracing the outline of your lips, caressing the swell of your breasts, dipping between your legs.

And when your breath falters in a quick succession of shudders, you wonder at your own sanity. Because in spite of your suspicions about the guy with the purple hair, the warning signs that pointed to his obvious involvement with the triads that extorted money from local businesses as ‘protection fees,’ you still couldn’t help but think about the man who visited you every night without fail.

* * *

“You’re hurt—”

“I-I’m fine. Just…just ring this up, will ya? I’m…in a rush…”

One arm crossed over his abdomen, he places the cup onto the counter as if it took all the concentration in the world — his efforts squandered anyways when his hand spasms at the last minute to send dark liquid sloshing over the lip. He hadn’t even bothered to put a lid on.

_“…Emergency responders have just arrived on scene and are dealing with scores of injuries. Eyewitnesses describe what appears to have been a violent clash between rival gangs in a longstanding feud over contested territory. The police are seeking help from the public in locating several key suspects believed to have fled the scene. Please do not approach them under any circumstances as they are considered armed and dangerous…”_

The news anchor’s face on the wall-mounted television is replaced by another: that of a youthful man with lavender hair and multiple piercings on his ears — challenge exuding from amber eyes. You scramble for the remote on the shelf behind you, mashing the power button until the screen goes black. And in the eerie silence that descends upon the store, all you can focus on is the laboured breathing of the man slouched before you.

Skin pale, beads of sweat dot a face drained of colour save for the crimson protrusion above his left eye — soon set to transform, ironically, into his favourite shade of purple. He tries to suppress a cough but it is too late: you’ve already caught sight of the blood spreading out from beneath the palm pressed to his stomach.

“It’s on me tonight.”

The words leave your lips without second thought as you make for the storefront, flipping the light switch even as you reach to turn the lock on the automatic doors.

“No, don’t…don’t get yourself involved…”

Ignoring his protests, you gingerly place his arm over your shoulder, doing your best to support his weight as you make an awkward attempt to hobble together towards the back of the store.

Suddenly, the darkened interior is lit by flashes of red and blue and you are pulled in the direction of the nearest pillar, a strong arm flexed as it tenses around your waist, holding you to him in an intimate embrace.

He is close…so close that your senses are flooded with him: the heartbeat thunderous in your ear, leather and sweat tickling your nostrils; the scent of blood thick enough you can almost taste it on your tongue. The hand on your hip — grip firm in a way it almost seemed possessive, and you are ashamed to find that you can become aroused even in a situation like this.

When you finally gather the courage to look up at his face — seeking a sign in the tension dissolving from the firm set of his jaw that the police cruiser had passed — you are shocked to see his pale lips stretched into a smirk instead.

“You know…I’ve been coming here every day…for weeks now…and this is the most you’ve ever said to me.”

He is still smiling when he passes out.


	2. Formal Introductions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A stranger finds himself in a strange place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, I just wanted to give everyone who read Chapter 1 of this fic a massive THANK YOU! It has been an absolute joy to read through your reactions to the story so far, and I hope you will continue to join me on this wild (and eventually, sexy) ride! 😂 That being said, here’s Chapter 2! Hope you all enjoy the read 💖
> 
> As always, please note the potential trigger warnings in the tags above and happy reading!

“Ahh—!”

A large hand clamps over your mouth to muffle the scream of shock when you wake to a pair of amber eyes staring intently into yours. Then you remember that you had given up your bed to the man you now knew went by the name of Shaw.

At least that was what was on the ID card you found in his wallet.

“Finally awake, Sleeping Beauty? Care to tell me where I am?”

Once assured you had sufficiently calmed, Shaw lowers his hand, turning his attention to your tiny apartment. You straighten up from where you had fallen asleep, kneeling on the floor beside the bed with your head slumped on the pillow just next to his face. Cheeks burning, you bite your lip to distract from the way your skin still tingled in the places he had touched.

“You’re at my place. But don’t worry, I live alone.”

“I figured that much,” he says, trying to prop himself up on his elbows before his face contorts in pain. You quickly rearrange the cushions and pillows behind him for support. Shaw reaches towards his bare abdomen, hand trembling slightly as his fingers trace over the bandaged stitches holding it together. “How did you…?”

“My next door neighbour did it. He was a doctor back in his home country and owed me a favour. I figured it would be a bad idea to take you to a hospital given…given everything that’s going on. You can trust him, he’ll be discreet.”

Shaw heaves a sigh; even that seems to hurt him. “How long have I been out?”

“Almost two days.”

_“Shit.”_ His brows pinch together. “Do you have my phone?”

Nodding, you make your way to the kitchen counter where it sat along with the things that fell from his pockets when you undressed him as per your neighbour’s instructions: his wallet, a pack of cinnamon gum, a key and a guitar pick.

The phone lights up at your touch when you hand it over. You pretend like you don’t notice the photo of the two young boys on the lock screen — one taller than the other, both wearing matching smiles and big, amber eyes.

You watch from the side, waiting with bated breath as Shaw scrolls through the messages with an impatient hand, the expression on his face growing darker with each swipe until he’s throwing off the sheets, pale lips trembling in pain as he tries to maneuver off the bed. “I have to go.”

“But, wait…you’re not fully healed yet! The doctor said it would likely be another day or two before you should start moving about—”

“I ain’t got that time.” Feet finally on the ground, Shaw looks down, seeming to realize for the first time that he’s completely naked save for his boxers. “Could you, um…pass my clothes?”

His cheeks grow pink. You clear your throat.

_Knock, knock._

Freezing in the midst of gathering his belongings, both your gazes shoot to the door when a muffled voice on the other side calls, “Loveland City Police! Anyone home?”

Tossing Shaw the bundle in your arms, you push him back into bed, holding a finger to your lips for silence before you throw the covers over him. Running sweaty palms over disheveled hair, you breathe deep, opening the door just enough for the chain to pull taut.

“Good morning, Miss. I’m Detective Lai and this is Officer Wong from the Loveland City Police Department. We’re currently conducting an investigation in the area. Have you seen either of these men around here lately?”

Putting away his badge, Officer Wong holds up several large photographs, one a grainy picture from what appeared to be security footage, and a couple of mugshots. You keep your expression flat as you pretend to study the one of Shaw’s face.

“Doesn’t ring a bell, I’m sorry.” 

Shaking your head for emphasis, you try to ignore the heat prickling beneath your collar when Detective Lai leans against the doorframe, gaze sharp as he sweeps the space behind you before finally relenting. “Sorry to have disturbed you, Miss. Please don’t hesitate to inform us if you notice anything out of the ordinary.”

Quickly shutting the door, you slide to the tiled floor of the entryway, shaking so hard your teeth chatter. Suddenly, a hand thrusts into your field of vision, making you jump: Shaw is standing before you, one arm outstretched to help you up as the other hovers over his bandaged abdomen.

“You should be resting.” The words leave your lips in a whisper.

He doesn’t budge. “Don’t worry about me, I’m stronger than I look.”

And when you finally place your hand in his, the smile that brightens that handsome face brings one to your own.

* * *

“You win. Looks like I’m not going anywhere anytime soon with the cops crawling all over the place.”

Shaw’s voice drifts to the kitchen from where he lay on your bed. Avoiding a cloud of steam when you lift the lid from a pot on the stove, the comforting smell of ginger and scallions wafts to tickle your nose as you portion out a single serving of congee, bearing it over to him on a tray.

“Here. It’s not much, but it’s easy on the stomach. Careful, it’s hot—!”

The congee splatters onto your sheets when Shaw drops the ceramic spoon, hissing as he sticks out a burnt tongue like an accident-prone child. Biting back a chuckle at the discord between the man before you now and the one who had valiantly saved you during the robbery, you quickly reach for the glass of water on your bedside table, watching him gulp it down for dear life.

“I know it’s no Coke and Pepsi, but I hope it’ll do anyways.”

He laughs, and the sound tightens around your heart before he almost chokes on his water, coughing violently into the crook of his elbow and breathing deep to ride out the wave of pain radiating from his torso.

“Wow. So she can tell jokes too in addition to saving lives. Impressive, just like the lies you told the cops. I have to say though, I’m surprised you noticed my drink of choice. All those nights I came in, you barely even looked at me. I was starting to wonder whether or not I was invisible.”

A smirk curls upon his lips; you wondered how they would taste. Then, after a beat of silence, he says, “Thank you. For everything. I owe you my life.”

His amber eyes hold yours, completely devoid of sarcasm. Counting to three before the intensity forces your gaze down to the fraying edges of your house slippers, the fierce beating of your heart makes you feel faint. 

“I’m just repaying a favour. I haven’t thanked you yet for saving me that day you took out the robber with your skateboard.”

“Was nothin’. Just happened to be in the right place at the right time.” He shrugs, running a hand through his hair before extending it to you for the second time that day. “Name’s Shaw, by the way.”

You stop breathing when your hands touch, hope your cheeks won’t betray you with their traitorous red when those long fingers tightened to hear you say yours in return.

“I know. I’ve seen it on the tag on your uniform many times now.” He repeats your name, soft and with intent, as if the tip of his tongue held something of infinite importance. “It’s nice…suits you. I like it.”

Raising a spoonful of congee, Shaw puckers his lips, blowing gently to cool it off first this time around.

“I like your congee too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading! Hope you all enjoyed it and please stay tuned for part 3 because there is only one bed! 😱😆


	3. Near & Far

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Promising beginnings and a premature end throw you into a tailspin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you’re still following this story, please accept a giant (virtual) hug from me to you! Thank you very much from the bottom of my heart for supporting me and this piece of work! 💖 Without further ado, I present to you part 3 of my slow-burn Shaw fic.
> 
> As always, dear reader, please note the potential trigger warnings listed above and below, and happy reading! 😊
> 
> (Potential trigger warnings for Part 3: depictions of mild PTSD symptoms, mentions of death of a close family member, disappearances, “breakups,” angst, profanity)

“You can relax, you know. I won’t try anything funny while you sleep, not my style. Besides, isn’t this much better than camping out on the floor?”

Nodding your head before you realize that Shaw probably couldn’t see you in the dark, your “Yes” comes out in a mewl so pathetic you wished you could immediately take it back.

His snicker shakes the bed, reverberating across squeaky springs to where you lay beside him, right at the edge of the twin mattress as you tried not to let your hands touch.

_No matter how much you wished for them to._

Beyond the window, a neon signboard paints electric shadows on your walls in splashes of pink, flashing in time to a rhythm Shaw tapped out with one foot beneath the covers.

_“Is it cool if…if we didn’t draw the blinds tonight? I can’t sleep in complete darkness.”_ He had asked you earlier that evening, towelling off his hair as he emerged from your bathroom wearing a shirt your ex had left behind along with your broken heart a year and a half ago.

Snoopy looked much better riding his skateboard across Shaw’s broad chest anyways.

And there, in the midst of an awkward arrangement where sleep would surely prove fleeting, the sounds of the night: the low hum of the refrigerator, the pawn shop’s sign buzzing just on the other side of the windowpane…the tick-tock of the clock on the wall, steady like Shaw’s breath beside you as it counts down precious time—

“I’ll be out of your hair first thing tomorrow morning.” 

_Ba-bump._

“No, there’s…there’s no rush. Honestly.”

“Can you really afford to miss more work because of me?”

Silence. You couldn’t refute the truth.

“Tell you what, in exchange for putting up with me, you can ask me anything you want. I’ve seen the way you look at me sometimes; surely you must be curious about _some_ things. Might as well find out before I go.”

Your stomach knotted, clenching tight. He was right. For all you know, it was now or never. “Why did you join? The triad, that is.”

He is silent for a moment, as if trying to find the right words to piece together.

“I’m looking for my brother.”

Out of all possible answers, this wasn’t one you were expecting. Turning onto your side, you study the handsome profile of his face — watching as pink mixed with lavender in the most ethereal way until you were overcome with the sense that in this vast ocean of life, you and him stood on very different shores. Eyes still fixed on your ceiling, Shaw continues.

“He was an undercover cop, working to infiltrate the ranks of the group I’m currently a part of. I only found out by accident, and he made me swear up and down not to breathe a word of it to mom. Then one day…he was gone. Just...disappeared off the face of the earth. Mom and I went down to the station every day for months, knew the names and faces of everyone who worked in that building, but it was like Gavin never even existed.

“It was too much for her. I came home late from school one day — found her on the floor, barely breathing. It was dark in the apartment…so dark. She had probably just drawn the curtains. By the time the paramedics arrived, she was already gone. Heart attack, they said. 

“I lie awake at night sometimes, wonder how I’m going to tell him that mom’s no longer here — go through the motions in my head, rehearsing every line. ‘Cus I know that sooner or later, that day will come. There’s no way he’s dead. I know my brother.”

A glimmer at the corner of his eye catches yours. Beneath the covers, your fingers inch towards his, finding courage in the darkness to brush against his pinky as if the sliver of warmth could express what words simply couldn’t convey.

“With mom gone, there was nothing to lose. I joined the group, worked hard…did what they needed me to do to gain their trust, all while collecting scraps of info here and there — whatever I could get my hands on in the hopes that it’ll lead me to Gav.”

_Pitter-patter, pitter-patter._

Tiny drops of rain speckle your windowpane. And when Shaw’s finger hooks around yours as if in a solemn pinky swear, the tears burning your eyes finally fall. You don’t ask him how many years it’s been, the dirty deeds he’s had to sully his hands with. You don’t question him about the father he doesn’t mention. All you _can_ do is watch as a solitary drop rolls down the side of his face before soaking into lavender strands fanned out on the pillow, the way his Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows back bitterness only he knew.

In spite of it all, _he_ is the one who chuckles when he turns towards you, eyes red rimmed even as his brows rise in feigned exasperation when he says, “Why are _you_ crying?! I’m the one with the tragic past here!”

And when you start to cry even harder, his soft hushes of “Shh, shh…I’m sorry, that last part was a joke. It’s all right, everything will be okay, I promise,” burrows deep into your heart and _you believe him._

Because when he reaches towards you — the thumb wiping the tears from your eyes calloused yet gentle — you are struck by a sense of overwhelming tenderness:

In the carefulness of his touch.

In the way he regards you with the sincerity of some unspoken emotion.

In the _entirety_ of this man whom the rest of the world has already written off.

And that is when you know…

“I didn’t mean to make you cry by telling you all this, I’m sorry.”

_…that you are in love with him._

“I’ll make it up to you. Ask me another question. Maybe something less depressing this time.” 

A smile spreads across his face. You wished there was a way for you to keep the warmth of his hand on your cheek forever. Sniffling, you try again.

“Wh-why did you keep coming in to my store everyday? There’s a lot of other convenience stores in the area—”

A flash of panic in those amber eyes, and Shaw is turning over with lightning speed until all you can see is the smooth expanse of his back.

“Changed my mind. A guy’s gotta keep _some_ secrets! Goodnight!”

* * *

_“You’re a good girl, aren’t you?”_

Wrap your arms around the pillow.

_“Good girls shouldn’t concern themselves with bad boys.”_

Bury your face into its cushiony fill.

_“Or have you forgotten that I’m wanted by the police?”_

And inhale deeply.

Shaw’s scent on your sheets is faint now, so much so that you can’t be entirely sure you’re not imagining it, having gone through this ritual countless times since the day Shaw left your apartment…

…and stepped out of your life.

* * *

_“Is there…any way I could stay in touch with you? I-I just…just want to make sure you’re okay…”_

Voice trailing off, you watch as Shaw gingerly shrugs one arm then another through the sleeves of his leather jacket, still wearing the Snoopy t-shirt he had slept in the night before after you told him he could keep it. His own was torn beyond repair, stubbornly dyed in blood regardless of how much you scrubbed at it. And when he hesitated still, you said he would just be doing you the favour of taking out the trash. 

Smoothing down the front of his jacket, Shaw glances at the phone in your hands — eyes tracing along your eager fingers, poised to type. The expression on his face is unreadable, as if the man you had spent the night sharing secrets with was nothing more than a figment of your imagination.

_“It’s better if we don’t. I’ll be fine, just laying low for the next while — boss’s orders. And I don’t want the cops coming around to your place again. Detective Whatshisname looks like he could be really good at hounding pretty girls like you.”_

That smirk again, so familiar to you by now. And in the compliment that would’ve made you blush bright red before, nothing but a smokescreen.

_“Shaw, I don’t mind—”_

_“You’re a good girl, aren’t you?"_ The force in his voice cuts, and you barely breathe to feel his finger curl beneath your chin, tilting up your face until you have no choice but to meet his gaze. Those eyes are dull, like molten gold frozen beneath a layer of impenetrable ice. _“Good girls shouldn’t concern themselves with bad boys. Or have you forgotten that I’m wanted by the police?”_

The shiver that runs electric down your spine makes the hairs on your skin stand on end. It was like looking at a stranger. Heart racing, your palms grow clammy with sweat, unsure of exactly when your phone had dropped from your hands, slipping away like…

_“I don’t care about the cops! I’ll deal with them—”_

_“DEAL WITH WHAT?! You think that just because you managed to turn them away at the door that it makes you a hardened criminal?! WE are not the same, okay? My life is worthless. I’ve already signed it away a long time ago, I’m ready to give it up without a second thought. But you…you’re different. Y-you’re kind, innocent. You’ve got your whole life ahead of you. One day, you’ll make someone the luckiest person in the world, be a beautiful mother to beautiful children. Don’t sell yourself short…not for someone like me.”_

The silence that descends is thick, suffocating. You don’t speak, afraid to open your mouth because it takes all your concentration just to keep the tears from spilling from your eyes.

Finally letting go of your chin, Shaw reaches behind his neck to undo the clasp on the thin gold chain he wore, the jade disc pendant that hung from it still warm from the heat of his skin when he places it in the palm of your hand.

_“It’s not much, but it was a gift from my mom and the most valuable thing I own. You saved my life, so it’s yours now. Maybe…maybe one day, you can give it to your own child.”_

Lump in your throat, you can barely breathe, let alone tell him there was no way you could accept something that precious, something that _priceless._ That you didn’t drag him home that night, broken and bleeding, in the hopes of gain; not for money, not for love.

He curls your fingers around the heirloom, gentle thumb pressing on index, middle, ring then pinky in turn before your fist finds itself held tightly within the press of his much larger hand for one…two…three seconds…

…before those purple Chuck Taylors take him to your door…

_Slam._

…and just like that, the man with the lavender hair is gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Forgive me for trolling, but there really was only one bed LOL! Hope you all enjoyed the latest chapter, and please stay tuned for what may be the final instalment in this Shaw saga! - XOXO, Otonymous


	4. Courage, My Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The final chapter. The Big Bang 😉

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To all the lovelies who have been patiently following this story: you’ve made it! 🥳 Welcome to the final chapter in this Shaw saga, where we aim to go out with a massive bang (pun intended 😆). Once again, thank you all for the support I've received on this story! You are all amazing, and I appreciate it so much! 💕
> 
> As always, please note the potential trigger warnings listed above and below, dear readers, and happy reading!
> 
> Potential trigger warnings for this chapter: physically aggressive behaviour, ex-boyfriends, angst, size kink, profanity, vaginal fingering & intercourse

The quiet is back.

But there is no peace, no relief in the monotony that follows after the man known as Shaw burst into your life like a bolt from the blue, stirring up long forgotten feelings like dead leaves animated by a carefree wind — here one minute, gone the next.

And with each passing day, hope erodes.

Little by little, your heart learns not to race as the clock above the magazine rack approaches 1:30.

It becomes harder to remember the sound purple sneakers made walking through the store.

You stop hoping, _wishing,_ to see a head of lavender hair; that the next person to approach the register would place a cup of Pepsi mixed with Coke on the counter, amber-eyed gaze speaking volumes without uttering a single word.

Days become weeks, and then eventually…

…you stop counting them altogether.

* * *

“You’re looking good. I see you’re doing well for yourself.”

He reaches for the jade pendant hanging around your neck, eyes flashing with amusement when you hit his hand away with an audible smack.

“What the hell do you want? Haven’t you already done enough?” You say through grit teeth, steps quickening as you head for the better lit part of the street, trying to outpace the man and silently cursing the fact that returning to the convenience store was no longer an option at this point.

“C’mon baby, don’t be like that. It took a lot of effort to track you down and I waited a very long time for you to get off work. It’s cold, dark and lonely out here. Is that any way to treat your boyfriend? Or friend, at least?”

“ ‘Ex-boyfriend,’ asshole, and you’re no friend of mine, especially not after the way you took my life’s savings and ran.”

“Baby, it wasn’t like that—”

“Oh yeah?! Did you try telling that to the loan sharks too before they came and trashed my place? _I had to move_ , Leto, because it wasn’t safe for me anymore, not with the way they kept harassing me and the neighbours asking about _your_ whereabouts. They even came to my office. _I lost my fucking job._ So don’t come around here and tell me that I’m doing well for myself.”

Breaking into a sprint, your mind races as you try to think of a way to lose your ex, anger and anxiety prickling every nerve in equal measure. He had ruined your life, singlehandedly taken away everything you had. And though you had known him once, desperation has a way of making monsters out of men.

And right now, for all you knew, he was desperate _and_ dangerous.

“Please, I just want to talk. I don’t need much this time, just a little bit to get me through this rough patch. I’ll pay you back, I swear, just…just STOP FOR A MOMENT!—”

You shriek to feel Leto wrap his hand about your wrist, but before he could tighten his grip, another arm is thrown around your shoulder, pulling you back until you’re pressed up against a hard, muscular chest, staring at a close up of Snoopy riding a skateboard.

“You got business with my girl?”

_That voice._ Dangerous and cocksure, yet comforting like nothing else as the muffled words reverberate through the tiny bones of your ear, a prelude to the soothing _ba-bump_ of his heart, rhythm steady and concrete as the ground upon which you stood.

_Shaw._

_He’s really here._

“Hehe. _Your_ girl?” The derision in Leto’s voice makes you sick to your stomach; you can’t help but hold your breath, waiting for the other shoe to drop as he looks Shaw up and down, zeroing in on his old t-shirt. “Tsk, tsk. So, not only do you enjoy wearing second hand clothing, you also have the habit of picking up sloppy seconds?”

_BOOM!_

Deafening thunder rolls moments after a bolt of lightning rends the night sky in two, throwing a jagged spotlight on the fury written on Shaw’s face when he moves just as fast to grab a fistful of Leto’s collar. The muscles of his forearm bulge as he holds up the entirety of Leto’s bodyweight in one hand, the sky opening in a sudden downpour as your ex struggles in midair, rain dripping almost comically from dangling feet.

And when Shaw brings Leto’s terrified face up close, the ferocity in those amber eyes sends a chill up your spine.

“This is the last time you’ll ever talk to her, see her, _even think about her._ Or else I’ll find you and take my sweet time making you wish you were never born, do you understand me?”

Head bobbing in vigorous nods, drops of water fly off the tips of Leto’s rain-slicked hair. Seemingly satisfied, Shaw tosses him onto the ground at your feet, voice low yet audible as it cuts through the din of the storm when he says, “Beg for her forgiveness.”

The fear in his expression almost palpable, Leto looks between you and Shaw — cowardice etched onto features you had once found so pleasing a lifetime ago. He prostrates himself onto the wet pavement, voice cracking in between sobs as he yells over the sound of the rain:

“P-please…please forgive me! I’m a piece of shit! I’m nothing, I’m garbage! I…I deserve to go to Hell for what I did to you! I-I’m so sorry! Please forgive me!”

Leto reaches out a shaky hand towards your soaked shoes before he remembers Shaw’s warning, but it is too late. Black combat boots hit the concrete hard within an inch of Leto’s face as Shaw stoops, yanking back a fistful of hair and pulling until your ex is looking up at you like a pitiful supplicant begging for mercy.

“Satisfied?” Shaw looks to you as if he were asking about something as mundane as the weather. You nod, suddenly too tired to even speak. You wanted to wash your hands of Leto, wanted nothing to do with all that had happened since you finished your shift at the convenience store. All you _could_ do was watch as Leto scrambled away on all fours the moment Shaw loosened his hold, running until he was nothing more than a speck of darkness merging with the night.

The rain is cold, wetness driving against your body to leech even the final bits of warmth from bone. Your clothes are drenched, heavy as they cling uncomfortably to skin. But you are too drained to care, lacking the energy to even notice when the dim light of the streetlamp above is blotted out — Shaw holding his leather jacket over your head in the place of an umbrella.

All you are aware of before your vision goes dark is the anxiety in his voice when he calls your name over and over again, how weightless it felt to be carried in the cradle of his arms. 

How much you missed the scent you thought you had learned to forget.

* * *

“Finally awake, Sleeping Beauty?”

You opened your eyes to gaze into irises of warm amber, the situation similar to one you experienced before except for the fact that this time, _you_ were the one lying in bed, staring at a man who sat on its edge, brows knit with concern beneath soft lavender strands.

“If you slept for any longer, I would’ve had to knock on your neighbour’s door.” Shaw chuckles but the sound is hollow, mirthlessness obvious like the blanched knuckles of his tightly clenched fists.

“What…how did we…” You begin, voice raspy as it dies, a sudden sharp pain in your throat making you wince.

And immediately, Shaw is on his feet, rummaging through cupboards in your kitchen until he finds a glass. You watch him run the tap, fill it to the brim. Feel the strength of his arm around your back as he holds you up, touch lingering even as you down the water in gulps to chase the discomfort away.

“You passed out not long after your douchebag of an ex ran off with his tail between his legs. I found your keys in your purse, so I let myself into your apartment — hope you don’t mind. Although, to be fair, I was also carrying you at the time, so it’s not really breaking and entering.”

Head feeling like it would explode as the events of the evening come rushing back, you turn towards him…slowly…slowly, afraid Shaw might disappear before your eyes should any movement prove too sudden.

_Thank him. Now. Before he goes away again._

He is close, so close that you can count those long, beautiful lashes; almost feel the minuscule shifts in the air between you every time he blinks — those pupils encroaching onto gold as they expand and pulling you into their depths as they do.

“Why are you doing this?”

He doesn’t flinch at your question, and you can’t bring yourself to be shocked by the discrepancy between what you meant to say and the words actually spilling from your lips. And as the grey memory of days spent counting the hours of his absence settles like lead in the pit of your stomach, the only thing you knew was that your heart couldn’t survive latching onto this sliver of hope only to have it ripped away again.

All you wanted…was the truth.

“Because I can’t stand to see you sad anymore.”

There is no smirk to stretch across that handsome face, only pain that hurts your heart to see it. Resignation heavy in his voice, Shaw takes a deep breath before he continues.

“Turns out I’m weak when it comes to you. Selfish. I know I’m no good for you; there’s no future with me. I can’t give you anything, can’t even promise you tomorrow, but…I just can’t stop thinking about you. Wondering how you are. Whether you’re eating well, sleeping well. If you’re safe…happy.

“Tonight wasn’t supposed to happen. I just wanted to make sure you got home okay, that some asshole wasn’t going to hassle you at work. But then your ex showed up and when he tried to get fresh with you, well…I couldn’t let that slide.

“Listen, I don’t know what’s wrong with me but…I’m sorry, if I ever made you sad, if I scared you. I’m sorry for everything.”

His gaze drops to the rip in his jeans, the _drip, drip_ of the leaky faucet the only sound in the ensuing silence of his confession. That is, until you say,

“I’m sorry too…that you’re such an idiot.”

His head whips up, brows furrowed and mouth slack as if caught in a rare moment of speechlessness. The shock makes him seem years younger, lending him an air of innocence that you couldn’t help but smile at.

“In case it wasn’t obvious, I’m a grown woman, capable of making my own decisions. I’m not so naïve that I don’t know what I would be getting into by being with you. You say you can’t promise me tomorrow, but tomorrow isn’t promised to _anyone._ All we can ask for — hope for — is the here and now. 

“Love takes courage, as does life. But a life without love…it’s not much of a life, is it? So I’m willing to be brave if that’s what it’ll take for us to be together.”

As quickly as they came, the words are gone, leaving you cotton-mouthed and faint as your heart pounds to send the blood rushing to your ears. That could’ve been the only explanation as to why Shaw’s _“I knew there was a reason why I loved you”_ sounded so muffled you had to ask him to repeat himself.

“Too bad, I only say things once.”

And there it is again: the spark in his eyes, smirk on those lips — igniting the fire you only allowed yourself to feel in dreams of his body on yours, skin to skin like kindling to flame.

“Are you that single-minded about everything?” You ask, the smile on your face mirroring his as it approaches closer…

“Only when it comes to not letting go of the one I care about.”

…closer…

“Tell me one thing.” Your voice is barely above a whisper.

…and closer still.

Lips now a hair’s breadth apart, the gentle rhythm of his exhalation blows soft upon your cupid’s bow; a shy request. Your vision is filled with him, wonderfully awash with colour — lavender, amber, the soft pink of his mouth — and you wished you were the very clothes upon his body; saturated in his intensity, dyed in his hues.

His eyes fixate on your tongue when you wet your lips before asking, “That night, when you were hurt so badly you passed out in my store…why did you still insist on coming in?”

Shaw’s breath catches, hitching in his throat. You know because you can feel it, the way the warmth stops short on your skin. And when he speaks, the eyes that hold yours tell you this is no lie.

_“Because if it was going to be the last night of my life, I didn’t want to go without seeing your face one more time.”_

Love is a funny thing. Formless, senseless, yet the strongest thing that could bind two strangers. You hadn’t known Shaw for long, could count the days you spent together on one hand. And still, entirely without reason, he bled into each and every hour, crept into the darkest corners of your mind to fill your weary heart with a desperation that made it very clear that love was far from done with you.

That right or wrong, the only place you wanted to be was _here_ — held in the arms that wrapped around your body: hot, tight, safe…

…Shaw.

His lips are softer than you ever imagined when he brings his face to yours, plush silk gliding corner to corner to cover your mouth in reverent kisses — one for each night he came into your store, watched over you from afar. 

Your stalwart protector.

You tasted it now, the remnants of cinnamon on his tongue from the gum he was so fond of chewing, intensified by the memory of all the times you wondered about its flavour: pink bubbles popping in his mouth as he coolly dealt with the robber, the night you emptied his pockets as your neighbour stitched him up on your bed.

Shaw tasted sweet. Far sweeter than you ever imagined.

And when his tongue slides against yours — slow and sure as it explores your mouth with increasing fervour before drawing back just as you clenched around emptiness, yearning for more, the beast within you refuses to abide.

You like the shock that passes over his face when you move, sudden and forceful, to push him onto the mattress beneath you; the artless way Shaw sinks teeth into his bottom lip in response. You like how he watches as you straddle his hips — gaze earnest and body honest, hardening as you grind undulating circles upon his groin.

But, perhaps most of all, you liked the spark of something wild in those amber eyes, an unpredictability warning that if you weren’t careful, you’d be the one to find yourself pinned to the bed.

Because wasn’t that ultimately the push-and-pull that characterized so much between you and him? Maddening at times, but always, _always_ binding you to Shaw like some red string of fate.

So you nod when he whispers _“May I?”,_ unable to suppress a moan to finally feel his hands on you: tracing along your jaw, cradling your face…resting the pad of his finger on your lip before pushing past to stroke your tongue.

Every sound he makes pleases; the soft hiss preceding the bob of his Adam’s apple to feel your lips pucker around his finger to suck, pink tongue enticing as it swirls along the length of that digit, drawing it deeper into the hot wetness of your mouth.

You never saw yourself as seductive before, but Shaw made you feel sexy. Perhaps the impulse stemmed from some primitive desire, an instinctive call to please the man you felt so profoundly for that shame was the farthest thing from your mind when you pulled his hand from your lips to guide it to your breast, only partially aware of how wet you were becoming from his gaze alone — half-lidded and heavy with lust.

The heat of his touch permeates your blouse, white and transparent still in patches from the rain. You watch his hands as they play: cupping your breasts in a gentle squeeze, thumbs and forefingers catching your nipples to pinch and roll until they stood stiff against the drape of your clothing, the flush of your flesh bold through fabric.

“You’re so beautiful that there are times I think you can’t possibly be real.”

His voice is low, husky. You let it wash over you, almost frightened by how stupidly happy you become, willing the magic to linger even as his words dissipate amongst the sounds of the night: neon buzzing and the faraway screams of sirens in the distance.

A world apart.

Your hands find the broad expanse of his chest, tracing along muscle before circling the nipples that stood erect against his damp t-shirt. Each twitch is endearing, every erratic breath he draws to feel your touch making you fall harder. And when he tries to focus on unbuttoning your blouse while fighting the impulse to tear it clean off your body, the stirring between your legs grows in intensity until he finally pulls the silken panels aside, a quiet gasp escaping his lips to see his necklace nestled between your breasts.

“It really does belong on you.” 

The admiration in his tone is laced with a hint of possessiveness that makes you throb. Shaw pushes himself to sitting, gathering you onto his lap in one smooth motion as he buries his face in your chest, inhaling deep. You gasp to feel gentle teeth sink into the flesh of your breasts, Shaw following the chain of precious metal with his lips until it leads to the pendant. And when his tongue slips out to draw the piece of jade into his mouth, he brings your nipple along with it.

“Oh!…”

The sensation is unlike any you’ve known before, the soft wetness of his pliant tongue a searing contrast with the cool, smooth stone rubbing against the sensitive tip of your breast in equal measure. You feel his smile on your skin when you fist your hands into lavender hair, spine curving as your legs begin to tremble.

_And he had yet to touch you below the waist._

“Your body responds so well to me. I knew you were a good girl.” He looks up at you, teasing shamelessly even as he continues to lavish attention on your breasts.

“Just _your_ girl, if you’ll have me,” you say without second thought, long past the point of caring to keep your cards close to your chest.

Something breaks in that expression, the final walls crumbling like dust when Shaw blinks once…twice, revealing eyes that shine with emotion when he replies, “For the rest of my life, if _you’ll_ have me.”

* * *

“Hmm!—”

Your moan is muffled, swallowed by Shaw’s greedy lips like he does with every sound of ecstasy that leaks like you do around his cock, buried impossibly deep in your body as it rocks back and forth, back and forth on his muscular thighs…

…doing your best to adjust to his ample size.

He had barely suppressed a chuckle when you first slipped your hand into his jeans, a subtle mix of pride and amusement on his face to see your eyes widen when you couldn’t quite wrap palm and fingers around the entirety of his girth.

_And foreplay had only just begun._

“Still doing okay?” Shaw asks, touch tender as he brushes loose strands of hair from your eyes, lips smoothing along the apple of your cheek to feel its pink heat. “We can go as slow as you want, there’s no rush. If it’s too much, we can stop—”

“No! No…I’m okay. More than okay, I’m great. Please…please don’t stop…don’t stop…”

Struggling to string words together, your breath comes in disjointed pants as Shaw begin to thrust up — the look on his face effortlessly sensual when he bites his lip to feel you spasm around him, tight wetness yielding in increments to accommodate his body as it broke new ground.

For you had never taken a man of that size, the litheness of Shaw’s muscular body belying the impressive package he’d been hiding in those jeans. Your jaw ached just to look upon the length of that thick cock, mouth watering as a fresh wave of arousal made you press your thighs tighter together. The movement didn’t go unnoticed. Shaw had drawn you to him then — deft fingers dipping low to trace the outline of your swollen folds through moist panties, lavender head bending to kiss its lacy trim.

He took his time preparing you, licking his fingers before he eased them into your pussy — first one, then two…curling deep until the slippery sounds of arousal told him the time was ripe to introduce the third, leaving you blooming for him even as he whispered, _“Think you’re ready for me to make you my girl for real?”_

It borders on overwhelming, this sensation of fullness — between your legs, within your heart. And as skin stretched to capacity to accommodate the sweet friction of his slide, you wished there was a way for the euphoria of this connection to last forever:

To the one you could never forget, no matter how hard you tried.

To this man you loved like no other.

_“Shaw.”_

His name is faint on your breath when he falls back onto the bed, taking you with him. And as you found yourself straddling his hips once more, the altered angles of your bodies gave him the leverage to make you gasp when he begins to thrust in earnest. The eroticism of his face, lost in lust, drives all thoughts from your mind as you drop a hand to your clit, fingers drawing tight circles before his hungry eyes.

The violence of your climax takes you by surprise, having no time to consider neighbours and thin walls as the lewdest sounds escape your lips at high volume. Intense convulsions wracking your body in waves, you clench in time around your lover. The sensation proves too much to bear, drawing out Shaw’s own release as he pulls out to spill onto the folds of your pussy — swollen and pink and trembling still beneath the coat of his pearlescent seed.

* * *

“I love you.” 

Morning light trickles across your walls like the slow crawl of spidery legs. Shaw’s words hang in the air between you, a final, sacred moment shared between lovers before the rest of the world wakes.

You loved the hoarseness in his voice; a testament to the hours of noisy lovemaking you had shared in lieu of sleep.

You loved the weight of his hand, stroking softly at the crown of your head.

You loved the rhythm of his heart, echoing just below your ear to confirm his existence.

“I love you too.”

You look up into those amber eyes, trying to discern whether those four little words were sufficient in conveying that fact that you adored _every fibre_ of the man before you.

The smile that graces his face in return is tender, honest…more brilliant than the day breaking in the East.

Your hands find his body, bare beneath the sheets. And as a curious finger traces along the ridge of the scar that runs in a broad stroke across his sculpted abdomen, your gaze falls on his t-shirt, draped over the back of a chair.

“You should probably throw that Snoopy shirt away, especially after what happened last night.”

Shaw follows your line of sight, chest rising and falling in a deep sigh. “Shitty as its previous owner was, I could never bring myself to hate something that reminds me of you. Aside from saving my ass, this was the first gift you ever gave me. And I never throw away gifts from my girl.”

_His girl._

The mystery of life is that filled with unknowns though it is, we continue to live, brave in the face of the uncertainty that comes with every passing day. You had no idea what fate had in store for you or Shaw, had no way of knowing if your relationship existed on borrowed time. 

The only thing you were certain of was that your feelings for each other were real, that try as you might, neither of you were very good at forgetting the other. That in this moment, here and now, the only thing that mattered was this love that hit you…

…like a bolt from the blue.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading! Hope you all enjoyed it and please stay tuned for part 2!


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